Anderson's Wayward Pet
by rosieth
Summary: Anderson has a pet Velociraptor, called Oliver. What happens when he takes Oliver to church and he gets out of control? So out of control that the law cannot control it? Its time to call in the specialists, John and Sherlock. ONE SHOT, AU. Enjoy? perhaps.


**AN: This silly little story sprung out of an IM conversation i was having with one of my friends about Anderson and dinosaurs. The Anderson/Dinosaur pairing is a little fandom joke that sprung out of a livejournal prompt for those of you who do not know. My friend and i were discussing the idea of the situation at the beginning of the unaired Sherlock pilot being Anderson's out of control Velociraptor instead of being a crime scene. My mind refused to drop it, and so here we have what might be the stupidist thing i've ever written. Certainly the stupidest thing i have ever publish. I hope this entertains you as much as it did me. Love Rose.**

"That's it. Im calling Sherlock." The most senior officer in the room shouted at his subordinates. "No. Don't call him. We can handle this.' The bearded CSI bellowed back, his voice half-drowned out by the roar of the distressed beast. "Handle this? Anderson, its your bloody fault we're even in this situation. Don't give me that bullshit that you can handle this. If you could handle this, the bloody reptile would be locked up and not trampling all over the bloody church hall." The two men glared at each other, two sets of eyes burning with pent up rage. "Lestrade, we can handle it. We don't need him." The CSI spat the last word out as though it were a bitter taste he needed to get out of his mouth. Lestrade ignored the panicked investigator and pulled out his phone. He held the number 1, speed dial for the world's only consulting detective. The phone did not answer, unsurprisingly. The DI would have been more shocked if someone had actually answered. He left a message, short and to the point, "Sherlock, its Lestrade. We've got a situation. Anderson, again. Bring John and bring something stronger this time." Within 30 seconds, a texted reply came through; "Be there in 5. Be prepared for our arrival - SH". Lestrade pocketed his phone, took a deep breath, and entered the church again.

Smashed pews littered the floor and colourful slivers of glass lined the edges of the windowed walls. In the centre of the room, tail throwing shattered wood pieces across the room, was Anderson's pet Velociraptor. Anderson himself was attempting to soothe the outraged creature, his voice high pitched and frantic undoubtedly doing nothing but further terrifying the animal. "Oliver, its me. Its daddy. It's time to go home now Oli. Shhhh, come now, behave yourself. Just let me put the leash on you and we can go home and you can have a lovely big meal. You'd like that, wouldn't you Oli?" Lestrade rolled his eyes. It was then he noticed Donovan was edging closer to the restless limbs of the large reptile. Was she really so foolish? She knew the beast despised her presence, it had made it clear every time they met. She was wielding a large rope lasso and looked to be aiming to loop it around the creatures neck. "For god's sake Sally, get the hell out of there. It's too bloody dangerous." The stubborn officer looked about to argue, until a sharp claw narrowly missed her outstretched arms. Smartly, she retreated to the very edge of the church, with the rest of the stunned officers. Lestrade silently cursed Anderson and his dinosaur obsession. Who on earth takes a pet of any kind to church with them, let alone a tempersome, impatient, huge reptile? Lestrade crossed his arms and channeled all of his anger and frustration into fixating Anderson with his most fiercesome stare. A car squealed to a halt outside the church and Lestrade quickly turned on his heels to greet the new arrivals. Two men exited the cab and began to run towards the church door. One of them was tall, slim and pale, with light grey eyes and curly black locks. The other was shorter, and more tanned, with brown eyes and short blonde hair. The blonde man was carrying a suitcase, his face serious and experienced. The tall man's face was alight with excitement and he looked as though someone had just told him he had won a new car. "Inside?" Sherlock inquired. Lestrade nodded. "John. Get out the tranquilisers. Hope you've bought your A-game today." Sherlock commanded his companion. Lestrade followed the pair inside, where Anderson was clearly struggling to keep his pet away from the perimeter of the room.

"You shoot, I'll collar.' Once again, it was the taller man who was giving the orders. It might have been the military within the shorter man, but he seemed to have no issue with obeying these commands. From within the suitcase, came two things; a gun with a long, narrow barrel, and a large, spiked collar. John threw the collar over to Sherlock, who caught it deftly, with apparently little effort. Sherlock called out to Anderson, who finally admitted defeat and fled from his own rampaging pet. "Please, don't hurt him. For god's sake, don't hurt Oliver." Anderson screamed at the men, his voice a touch hysterical. "We know what we are doing Anderson. Remember Grange Hill?" The smirk on Sherlock's face showed how much the man was enjoying the situation. It was a little triumph for him, yet again able to succeed where Anderson could not. "When you're ready John." The ex army doctor nodded, before lifting the weapon in his hands. With steady hands he aimed at the softer tissue just beyond the base of the creatures shoulder blades. The soft sound of the tranquiliser dart shooting out the end of the gun could barely be heard over the cacophony of sounds being created by the upset dinosaur. "Oliver, stop moving. Stay in the centre of the room or you'll crash into the walls." Anderson shouted directions at the confused lizard. It began to teeter, swaying as the drugs began to take effect. It was a full 12 minutes before it finally succumbed to the effects of the medication. As soon as it was grounded, Sherlock darted forward, deceptively agile for his height, and collared the wayward pet. "Next time, leave the damn thing at home where it has plenty of room. A church is no place for animals, Anderson.' The deep voice of Sherlock hissed at the man who had instigated the whole troublesome affair. Already, John had stowed away the tranquiliser gun and had the closed suitcase resting at his feet. "Come on John, back to Baker Street." The two men strode out of the church, clambered into the waiting cab and drove off. "What Sherlock meant to say Anderson, is that there had better not be a next time. If there is, it'll be your job." Lestrade reprimanded his team member. "For god's sake, get the bloody thing home before it wakes up. I hope you don't have any outstanding bills, because its going to cost a fair few quid to fix this place back up." Leaving Donovan to process the scene, Lestrade headed towards his squad car. Somehow, it was only now that the media were turning up. What the hell would the headlines be? London Law Enforcement keeps Killer Dinosaur as Pet? Velociraptor's Rampage? Cold-blooded Creature Crashes Church? Whatever it was, he was going to be dragged over the coals. Again. This is the last time, he told himself. The last time Lestrade. It was always going to be the last time.


End file.
